


say goodbye where the power lines crash

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink (minor), Fingering, Incest, M/M, PWP, Semi Canon-Compliant, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: FP is going away for a long time; he and Jughead make their visit count.





	say goodbye where the power lines crash

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this kink meme prompt](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html?thread=97868#cmt97868)! this is pretty much nothing but dirty-bad-wrong porn, unrepentant in its fucked up nature, as the stuff i write usually is. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Hey, c’mon, can’t I see my fuckin’ kid?”

Jughead stands silently off to the side as his dad badgers the officer.

“No visitors.”

FP bristles behind the rusted bars. “You let Clifford Blossom in here, why the hell can’t I have a little time with my kid?”

Jughead tucks the words away, as a reminder to ask his dad about them later.

The officer—Jughead doesn’t know his name, doesn’t care to—pauses. “You wanna get in there, kid?” He asks, and Jughead nods in reply. The officer sighs. “Fine, fine.”

He tugs the keys that dangle from his waist and gestures Jughead closer. He unlocks the cell door and Jughead hurries past him.

“Some privacy?” FP snarls when the door hangs open and the officer hangs around.

“I don’t think so.”

“Lock the door if you’re so fuckin’ worried, I’m not going anywhere. Just want some time with my kid.”

The officer hesitates and his eyes flick to Jughead.

“Please?” Jughead murmurs without quite meeting the heavy stare.

The officer rolls his eyes. “Alright. Holler when you’re done.” He tucks the keys away after shutting the cell door again. “No promises that you’re gonna be alone the whole time,” he adds, knowingly.

FP sneers. “Fuck off.”

 

Once they’re alone, FP sighs. “What’re you doin’ here, Jug?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Told you to stay away.”

Jughead cracks a hysteric laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to just let you rot in here, when I _know_ you’re innocent?”

“You don’t know shit, son.”

Jughead storms up to where his dad sits, raises his hand as though to slap but ends up combing through his own hair instead. He lets out a keening, frustrated noise. “You can’t do this.”

“You don’t understand, Jug. Let it go.” FP looks away and shakes his head. “You should go.”

Jughead shuffles closer. He finally stops anxiously tugging at his hair and reaches for his dad instead. He lays his hands on his dad’s shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t do this,” he begs quietly.

“S’too late.”

“No,” Jughead replies, sharp. “No, it’s not! Mary could help you, we can get you a lawyer, we could—?”

FP takes his son by the wrists and holds him still. “Jughead, you got to let this go.” He strokes his calloused thumbs over Jughead’s knuckles. “You gotta trust me, okay?”

Jughead tries to swallow the lump rising in his throat but fails. He tries to blink back the tears but _fails_ , and then FP is reaching up and cupping his face. FP wipes at the tear tracks and murmurs soft reassurances that Jughead can’t even hear over the roaring in his ears.

“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry.” FP speaks low and soothing but it does nothing to quell Jughead’s hiccupping sobs.

“I can’t lose you, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Fred’ll take care of you. It’ll be alright.” FP pulls Jughead closer, so he can press their foreheads together. “Archie, you still got Archie. N’Betty, she seems nice, huh, Jug?”

Jughead shakes his head. His grip tightens and pulls at his dad’s grimy white t-shirt. “No, no, no.” He shakes his head until FP’s grip is firm enough to stop him, hold him still.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

Jughead doesn’t reply except for wet and breathless whimpers.

Eventually, with a cursory glance around, FP sighs. He lets his hands drop from his son’s face, to his waist; he pulls Jughead closer until his son climbs obediently into his lap. FP wraps his arms around Jughead in a hug.

“Dad,” Jug starts quietly. His voice is still wet and his tears haven’t subsided, but he’s shaking less. “Dad, can…”

FP waits.

When Jughead finally looks up, he’s pouting and red in the face. He’s a twisted mix between overwrought with upset and overwhelmed with embarrassment. “Don’t make me say it.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

FP’s eyes widen in surprise. “We can’t, not here.”

“If we don’t do it now then—what if we never can?” Jughead’s expression grows more and more sour. “I don’t—one last time. _Please._ ”

FP doesn’t even bother to keep fighting it. He brings a hand to hold his son’s chin and forces Jughead to look at him. “Whatever you want,” he agrees. “Did you bring anything?”

Jughead’s blush worsens.

FP can’t help but grin. “That’s what you were hopin’ for the whole time, huh? Hopin’ I’d—?”

“Just, shut up. Shut up,” Jughead snaps a he reaches into his back pocket. “Shut up and get on with it already.” He holds the tube of slick out for his father to take.

FP grabs the lube but pauses. “Anyone could walk in at any time.”

“If you don’t want to, then I can go.”

FP narrows his eyes. “I never said that.” He sets the lube beside him and starts to push at his son’s jeans. “C’mon, help me out here. Get ‘em off enough for me to touch you, huh?”

Jughead goes up on his knees and pushes his pants down in a rush. He pushes until his ass is exposed, thighs trapped by the tight fabric of the denim, until FP can touch him properly.

“That’s it,” FP coos, “that’s good.” He takes a moment to slick up two fingers before skirting his touch across Jughead’s ass. “You ready?”

Jughead nods, he arches his back to press into FP’s touch.

FP uses one hand to grip one of Jughead’s cheeks, pull it to expose his hole. Then he presses a single finger in without pause, drinking in Jughead’s startled gasps. “Good?” FP asks as he kisses along Jughead’s jawline. He stops to nip at his son’s earlobe, suckling on the skin and tearing more desperate sounds from Jughead’s lips.

“Please, do it, c’mon.” Jughead clenches around the single finger and sighs. “Please, dad, c’mon.”

“Okay, baby, okay, I’m going.” He draws his finger out and returns with two. Again, he slides in without stopping. He doesn’t stay still once his fingers are inside—instead he starts to thrust hard and fast.

Jughead keens and bites his lower lip to stifle the sound.

“Gonna miss your noises,” FP tells him. He presses in deeper so he can tease his son’s prostate; his touch grazes it just enough to startle Jughead every time, never enough to push him over the edge. “Gonna miss your ass, sweet little voice, gonna miss you, baby.”

“Dad, dad, c’mon, I’m ready.” Jughead reaches back with a shaking hand and shoves at FP’s fingers.

“You bring a condom?” When Jughead shakes his head, FP laughs. “Fuck, kid.” Despite that, FP lets his fingers slip from his son’s body. Before he can ask, Jughead reaches between them and undoes his dad’s button and zipper. He pushes at the boxers to expose his dad’s cock and strokes it once, twice, too fast and too loose before moving closer.

“I’m ready, dad, do it.”

FP waits long enough to get his cock wet with lube, before guiding his son by the hips. Jughead starts to sink, lowering himself slowly, taking FP’s dick inch by inch. “You look so good takin’ it, baby, always do.”

Jughead exhales shakily as he bottoms out. “Dad,” he whines. His hands are still tight on FP’s shoulders and he presses his face against his dad’s, desperate for the closeness and intimacy. “Dad, please.”

FP rolls his hips. One hand is slipping off Jughead’s hips because of lube, the other is holding hard enough to leave fingerprint-shaped marks behind. “Fuck, Jug, fuck.”

“Dad,” Jughead whimpers again, and FP finally looks at his son. His son’s eyes are wide and wet and his lower lip trembles with a mix of pleasure and sadness.

“Shit, c’mere,” FP urges. He lets go of his bruising grip to gently take Jughead by the chin again. He guides him in for a kiss, a series of soft kisses that suck the air from the room. “M’right here, baby, I’m still here.”

Jughead shakes his head, though not hard enough to dislodge his dad’s grip. Jughead shakes and trembles and closes his eyes tight.

“Look at me, Jug, look at me.”

Jughead does, his lips falling open in tight moans in the same moment.

“Love you, y’know that, right?”

The tears start to fall as Jughead tries to keep his eyes open.

“Love you so much, Jug, s’all gonna be okay, I promise.” FP kisses along the column of his son’s neck, pauses to suck a deep red hickey just under the collar of his shirt, then works his way back to Jughead’s lips.

“Dad, dad, dad,” Jughead whispers between kisses. His own hips are rolling to meet FP’s every thrust, his own cock bouncing with the motions, smearing precome across their shirts. “I’m close, dad, close.”

FP kisses his son as he curls a hand around Jughead’s dick. He strokes faster than his thrusts and breathes reassuring words into his son’s mouth. “Right here, Jug, m’ere for you. Can you come for me, baby?”

Jughead nods minutely.

“Let me hear you, just a little bit. Give me somethin’ to remember, huh?” FP pulls back from smothering Jughead’s swollen lips in kisses to let his son breathe.

Jughead obeys the command and stops holding back his moans, lets his body loosen and relax and let go. He keens and moans and it echoes off the cement walls of the cell. Rhythmic and wanton he gasps out—

“Dad, dad, dad!”

“One time, baby, let me hear it.” FP kisses the underside of his son’s jaw. “C’mon.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate; Jughead knows perfectly well what he means.

_“Daddy.”_

FP groans. “That’s it, baby, Jug, so close.”

Jughead can’t stop now that he’s said it once. “Daddy, please!”

“Come for me, baby, do it.” FP kisses Jughead hard on the lips and licks into his mouth. He sucks on his son’s tongue as Jughead whimpers through his orgasm. His body goes tight and his cock pulses as he comes, spunk staining their shirts. “Good boy, so good for daddy, huh?”

“Please,” Jughead gasps.

“Want me to come inside you? Gonna walk home that way?”

Jughead nods dazedly. “I need—!”

“I know what you need, Jug, I’ll give it to you, promise.”

FP kisses Jughead again, softer this time, and it’s as his son melts into his touch that he comes. The gentle way Jughead relaxes against him, accepts his kiss and his cock like it’s all he never needs; it tips FP over the edge and he pushes up erratically as he comes. He bites Jughead’s bottom lip hard as his orgasm fades, as he stays impossibly still to keep his come inside his son.

They both settle after that, breathing heavy.

“You should get cleaned up,” FP says quietly.

Jughead nods, but doesn’t move.

“It’s gonna be okay, Jug. I promise.”

Jughead shakes his head this time. “It’s fine.” He slips off his dad’s lap and hurriedly redresses. The face he makes, uncomfortable but satisfied, tells FP his son is going to be feeling this for a couple days. “It’ll be fine.”

FP tucks his own soft cock away and stands up. “It will,” he says, harsher. “I swear, Jug, it’s gonna turn out just fine.” He leans down and kisses Jughead once more. As they break apart, Jughead turns away.

Pressed tight up against the bars, Jughead calls out,

“Officer!”  


End file.
